Crow, American 



flesh is scarce, and stealing when other resources fail, the 

 crow is a character I would not willingly miss from the 

 landscape. He is the dusky embodiment of worldly 

 wisdom and prudence. 



Then he is one of Nature's self-appointed constables 

 and greatly magnifies his office. He would fain arrest 

 every hawk or owl or grimalkin that ventures abroad. 

 I have known a posse of them to beset the fox and cry 

 "Thief!" till Reynard hid himself for shame. 



Burroughs. Winter Sunshine.^ 



Through the clear skies of March, 



Blue to the topmost arch. 



The crow, harsh-clamoring, sails. 



Celia Thaxter. 



Even the blackest of them all, the crow. 

 Renders good service as your man-at-arms. 

 Crushing the beetle in his coat-of-mail. 

 And crying havoc on the slug and snail. 



LONGFELLOW\ 



Oh, say, Jim Crow, 

 Why is it you always go 

 With a gloomy coat of black 

 The year long on your back? 

 Why don't you change its hue. 

 At least for a day or two, 

 To red or green or blue? 

 And why do you always wear 

 Such a sober, sombre air, 



60 



